


kintsugi

by shirururi



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: Angst (?), Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OOC, Short Chapters, Unbeta'ed, all ik is that i refuse to let it die in my drafts, everything's the same gen himself is just the au aha, i might or might not continue this, if i do continue this then, kitsune gen, oh i havent mentioned excessive metaphorical/poetic stuff, slowburn, this is just for writing practice, yes thats all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirururi/pseuds/shirururi
Summary: For 3700 years or so, Asagiri Gen slept with heavy eyelids, with dreams of shallow lies-- of a never-ending rain and a plea of a drowned fox, of turbulent nights and of disagreeing skies, of a shelter and of stars he disowned. He dreamt, floating, with the night sky-- circulated by constellations alike-- his onlysolace.
Relationships: Asagiri Gen/Ishigami Senkuu
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	kintsugi

For 3700 years or so, humans ceased, skin layered in stone, limbs a fragment of what they used to be. Corroded with them came society, civilization no more.

For 3700 years or so, the devotees are gone; whispers of tell-tales of gods and unnatural beings beneath shrines shielding their heads over a triumphant rain, muttered prayers in the midst of the morning sun, of grateful offerings placed in the light of a wholesome glee… have all but disappeared.

For 3700 years or so, gods and they-- who have been named and lived under wishes and dreams and stars of mortals, of humans-- ceased to exist. Along the path of rotting violets lay nothing but the crack of a new day concealing a hundred nights.

For 3700 years or so, Asagiri Gen slept with heavy eyelids, with dreams of shallow lies-- of a never-ending rain and a plea of a drowned fox, of turbulent nights and of disagreeing skies, of a shelter and of stars he disowned. He dreamt, floating, with the night sky-- circulated by constellations alike-- his only _solace_.

After 3700 years or so, after his wake, stood not the sky, nor the night before him. His solace gone, replaced by an immeasurable fear of not the rain, of not the water, but of solid might holding a chunk of his stars astray.

A quarter of his _hoshi-no-tama_.

After his initial surprise, of thoughts of his night sky and the rest of his stars, he feigns with an innocence he doesn't have, purrs like a good fox serving its master, and smiles.

"Ah~ So refreshing, out of an unhealthy dream. I'm still remembered after all these years? How sweet of you,"

"Asagiri Gen-san,"

In his presence, a humble king stood and knelt, rocks and dirt brushing against his knees. Gen is reminded of a vague memory of comfort like this sunlight. _So warm_ , he thinks, as Tsukasa-- as he introduced-- draped silk and cotton alike to cover his onced exposed figure, the fur in his cloak brushing his cheek for a moment.

He is reminded of softness and kindness he once had felt and fled from, of pure white furs, and one-sided fulfilled promises. Tsukasa is petting him with calloused yet kind hands, giving him the softest eyes as if he too, was reminded of a broken past.

Like a lion taming a fox.

It is _too kind._

_The little prince once asked, "What does that mean-- to tame?"_

_"It is an act too often neglected," replied the fox. "It is 'to establish ties'."_

Gen, bothered with years of constant torment by humans, remained guarded yet wore a mask of a pliant pet. He is glad, he is very much glad.

"I want you to find a man named Ishigami Senkuu."

For Shishio Tsukasa's next words were to deceive one's self, too disillusioned yet too naive, too kind to believe the possible existence of a utopia; a simple haven for those who will be chosen, sufficed enough with saccharine and closed eyes.

As he explains about Ishigami Senkuu, Gen briefly hears the illusion of a sky roaring with pelts of blood, drowning him in a cascade of abandonment and tears. His heart beats unceremoniously against Tsukasa's soft words, tapping against his constricting throat, and in his sight, he only envisions a melted white rose.

_Thud. Thud._

_Aah._

His heart beat for loss.

_Thud._

"Sure, Tsukasa-chan," He disagrees yet he smiles.

For he has nothing; nowhere to be.

_"Please-- tame me!" said the fox of the little prince, for one only understands what he has tamed._

_"Please-- Please don't tame me," croaked the white fox, dirtied with mud and caked with rocks and smeared with blood, to his thousand skies, leaving behind an endless cloud of doubts and broken daylights._

___

Asagiri Gen, by all means, refuses to admit that he has lost his footing in all of this fallacy. He is but a shrewd mythological fox cursed to have only a tail and no more, whose _hoshi-no-tama_ is rendered to rein him in. He is no god, he is unlike his _In--_

… _who?_

"I'm okay with being bare-footed, Yuzuriha-chan," his honeyed words had left his lips earlier as a farewell with a smile to the sweet girl, bare feet brushing against cracked stones and uneven ground-- to splinter his skin of disdain toward foolish faith of the sky and flimsy worries in the girl's eyes. "Thank you~"

He refuses to admit the itch in his skin nor the painstaking desire of shredding it to reject the dawn of anxiety and thirst settling in the void of his heart. He doesn't wish to rack his brain with the whereabouts of emotions and empathy that should have been whisked along with memories of an old world.

_Pain_. He replaces sympathy towards cracked stones and broken limbs with pain to ground him once more, to remind him that the _kitsune_ , Asagiri Gen of the past was no more. He is not worthy of being remembered or acknowledged.

He rubs them against dirt as he follows a path of wilted red carnations leading to another set of doubts and a thorn in his rusty mask.

_"5738 A.D. April 1"_ supplies his traitorous brain as he knelt beside a pure, glorious lake to calm his thunderous heart. He is an inch closer to tearing his heart out and then spurn the tears that would eventually silently spill out of azure orbs, if it meant that it would _fade_ away.

Nothing is reflected but a liar of a fox contaminated in schemes of evil and mischief, wearing robes of royalty and mystery. Yet one look into his eyes shatters his painting; eyes that shine deep with admiration and a need, fixed on the memory of carved words in a tree.

It burns him. It sets him aflame, passionate to find _why_ , yet sets him astray; as he thought of a kind lion who held a quarter of _hoshi-no-tama_ and of a need to follow _him_ to protect himself from the harm of the past.

His greedy heart who _needs--_ who _wants--_ yet _scorns_ of what has beens and what could have been.

_Will you soon set your sight?_

Of vague memories, he remembers the comfort of the wafting scent of coffee and of dandelions tucked away in his pockets, and then of trampled gloxinia and a metallic scent of the petrichor.

Asagiri Gen, devoid of anything _really_ , only knows how to curl up by the side of the lake and hug his knees close to _retract_ from a world he doesn't belong in. How odd it was, to mourn oneself's death over a melancholic lake, with no lullabies of alleviation and with no tears to shed.

He simply stares. He simply wills it away.

_Only it doesn't._

_____

Gen's mind is foggy-- unclear. It has no nights; only an irreplaceable dawn. It lulls him to sleep for another millenia or so, and it's hard to comprehend thoughts other than hazy recollections of a bed and _cola._

It's infuriating.

"What a pain~" He complains, plopping down on a particular large rock, his ears drooping after. A trickster like him can't do wonders in a nebulous deluge.

For four days and three nights, he travelled by foot to find the source of Tsukasa's paranoia, Ishigami Senkuu. He entertains himself with thoughts of his _hoshi-no-tama_ and how Tsukasa could have _summoned_ him in a world bereft of religion amongst other things. Anything to distract himself from unwanted mixtures of thoughts and feelings, really.

He turns his attention on the falling cherry blossoms. The tree shields his sensitive skin from sunlight and offers an ethereal view of a sun adorned by fluffy pink clouds. He plays with the thought of transforming fully into a fox to hop into a branch, his ears twitching in delight at the thought, only to remember that he currently has nothing to speak of.

He _sighs_ for the nth time. If only.

_Ephemeral_. He picks a petal from the ground, rubbing it between his fingers-- another sensation-- another proof that he's somehow alive. How dull. How unexciting. He seeks nothing but a short life.

_Here is a familiar place_ , his instincts supply as he pays more attention to the vast area of running grass. From where the cherry blossoms stand, shrines must've stood and bloomed. _Home?_ He ponders, only to feel it _wasn't._

He knows what _home_ is.

Home is not the muddy tramp along a wooden floor, dragging leaden limbs. He _was_ a reject; it dawns on him, and he blinks, unsure of what to feel except for acceptance. He frowns, and _it_ happens _again_ \-- he's so _tired--_

Only to be stopped by a scent of his so-called _home._

Not exactly _home_ , but _food_ is another of his sunshines and rainbows; especially helpful when there's a nuisance hindering his next course of action.

_Deep-fried…_

_And sweet._

Gen can't quite put his finger on it but he _knows._

Should he go on a little expedition, he wonders. _How tempting. How unfair._ Tsukasa had mentioned the existence of a woman, so there must be either a village _nearby_ or it's a _bait._

He plays with another thought: a thought of food growing its own arm and legs to prance around an open area foolishly. It's fun to think about nonsense when one is about to submit himself into the danger of temptation and of the danger of getting a silly little breakdown after reliving the one a few days ago…

Only because of Ishigami Senkuu.

_You have to be dead, Senkuu-chan._

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how to continue this but i'm posting it anywayヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ


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